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Time

Quick, quick, slow, slow. Time is more than a luxury: it is a right, says Jay Griffiths

When missionaries first arrived in North America, the Algonquin natives, outraged, called the missionary timepiece “Captain Clock” because it seemed to be the commander of every act for the Europeans.

In Britain, during the Industrial Revolution, when workers first felt the violent coercion of the clock, they smashed those above factory gates in revenge for “stealing” their time. It was an eloquent piece of violence, revealing how much of a shock it was to human nature that another person or object could “own” your time.

This sense of outrage is almost forgotten today. Modernity has grown horribly accustomed to the cages of calendars, the chloroform of routine, the dreary restrictions of schedules, the deadlines so deadening to the spirit, the prison cells of diaries (those brick walls in which friends, too busy, too overworked, seek “windows” in which they can meet to chat languorously). Crushed by feeling short of time,